Liam’s face slackens slightly. He gives a shake of his head. “No. You’re…they’re mine?”
I nod again, the truth, spoken aloud like this, is a weight disintegrating from my shoulders. “You weren’t just my first,” I admit, a flutter in my belly, a burn in my cheeks. “You were my only.”
His fingertips go to my lips, his eyes widening slightly. “Promise.”
“Promise.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes flooding with light. “I thought this was going to be the worst day of my life.”
Tears slide down my cheeks. “Me too.”
Liam presses his lips to mine. “I’m so fucking happy,” he whispers against them.
Me too, I mean to say, but suddenly my body weighs a ton, and gravity is falling gently over my shoulders like a blanket. My lids are heavy, and I’m reaching for Liam when my knees give out.
Thrum of footsteps and Margot’s voice, distant,call 911, her cool hand on my cheek, herhush hush it will be OK, Liam’s kisses against my lips, and the world falling, falling, falling away…
* * *
One.
My girls, screaming as they whirl along the riverbank, spring-golden sunlight like spears through the trees. Mom sitting on the rocks in her sun hat, and Margot with a beer in hand, reclining, arguing with Liamnoo, that tattoo was absolutely hideous, I made it beautiful, admit it. Me, standing at the top of the hill, sunlight kissing my lips, white dress flickering against my knees.
Two.
My future, an impossible shapeless thing that when held to the light, glitters. When I was released from the hospital last winter—concussion, a scare, but we’re OK now—one of the first things I did was finish my article, march into Liza’s office, and slap it on her desk. I could have quit. But I realized I like the challenge, the way she looked down at me like she wanted to look up. She was impressed by the work—could use a little lessflare,you know—and, hey, what do you know? The raise came shortly after.
Liam’s moved in, and Mom’s even starting to warm up to him. Slowly, of course, that’ll take time—but now that everyone knows the truth, that the girls are Liam’s and so am I, it seems the waters are calming, more and more day after day.
Three.
Him. I watch him, snatching Margot’s empty beer glass and ruffing Lea’s hair as he comes up the slope to me.
He stops at my side, looks me over in my dress in a way that brings heat to my cheeks. He waves the empty bottle, then tips his head toward the house. “Refill?”
* * *
Him.
Liam slides my dress up to my thighs, trailing kisses along the inside of my knee. I sigh and melt back into the bed, stretching my arms over my head. My stomach is fluttering, all sunlight and butterflies, and I take this moment to truly, seriously, appreciate how far we’ve come.
Liam is here. For me. For his daughters. For his sister. For his town. After the police dealt with Jockey—it was self-defense after all, Jockey beat and kidnapped me, as much as I hate to think about any of that horrible, terrifying night—Liam was more determined than ever to get his and this town’s shit together.
Of course, I didn’t mind putting him in touch with my new friend Connor. It wasn’t easy, reconciling a dirty past and two deaths, but Connor and Liam have this in common: they actually care. The road has been and will continue to be a tricky one, but if I believe in anything, it’s Liam, and me.
Liam and me.
I smile, biting my lip as Liam’s lips trail along the inside of my thigh. “Quick,” I say, the word emerging unintentionally sultry. Liam’s bright eyes flash up at me, smiling and full of mischief. “They’ll know what we’re up to!”
“Let them know,” he says, his breath hot against my skin. “Nobody knew for years. I think we’re entitled to a little…” He hooks his fingers through the red lace of my panties and slides them lower, lower, until his lips find that perfect, impossible place between my legs. “…publicity.”
I laugh, but the delight fades and falls away, my heart racing too fast as Liam’s tongue flickers between my thighs, laving and confident and smooth, seeking my clit easily and stroking in delicious, devious circles.
“God,” I say, breathless. “I can’t believe you deprived me of this for three years.”
His fingers dance along my thigh, joining his tongue with delicate, branding strokes. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Please do,” I say, meaning for it to sound light and airy. Instead I sound desperate, the words a thinly-veiled plea. I realize I’ve closed my eyes, breath catching, and when I open them, I find Liam gazing up at me, his eyes hooded and lips quirked in a sweet, inscrutable smile. “What?” I laugh.
